Chapter 8 - The Secret Behind the Hostility
The drive back to our house in Fair Lawn was quiet, but it wasn't a sad silence. It was the quiet of a storm finally clearing.
When we got home, we kicked off our boots, put on festive Christmas music, and went to work. As a caterer, my home pantry and commercial prep refrigerators in the garage were always fully stocked with high-grade ingredients. Within forty-five minutes, Nadia and I had a prime rib roast seasoning in the oven, fresh potatoes peeling in the sink, green beans simmering with shallots and bacon, and two homemade apple crusts baking in the oven.
The house filled with the warm, rich aromas of butter, garlic, roasted meat, and cinnamon. Caleb and Lily sat at our rustic kitchen island, laughing, drinking hot cocoa with extra marshmallows, and helping decorate frosted sugar cookies.
While the kids were occupied icing a gingerbread house, Nadia walked over to where I was slicing fresh sourdough bread. She leaned against the counter, looking at me thoughtfully.
“Wes,” she said quietly. “Do you actually know why she hates us so much? Six years is a long time to hold a grudge over nothing.”
I paused, holding the bread knife mid-slice.
For years, I had written Susette’s behavior off as snobbery, territorial hosting, or petty suburban arrogance. But as I looked back over the timeline of our family history, the missing piece of the puzzle finally clicked into place.
“It’s about the catering business,” I said slowly, the realization hitting me like a cold splash of water.
“The business?” Nadia frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Think back to seven years ago,” I recalled, stepping closer to her. “Right after Garrett started dating Susette. Her father, Arthur, owned that massive commercial real estate firm in Bergen County. Susette wanted to launch her own high-end boutique event-planning company. She asked my father and Garrett to invest fifty thousand dollars from the family trust to help launch her firm.”
Nadia’s eyes widened. “Wait... I remember that. Your dad came to you for advice.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Dad asked me to look over Susette’s business plan because I’d been running Harvest & Hearth successfully for five years. I reviewed her financial projections, and they were completely unrealistic. She had no operational experience, insane overhead costs, and zero client acquisition strategy. I told Dad privately that investing the family’s savings in her venture was a massive risk, and he should decline.”
“And he took your advice,” Nadia whispered.
“Dad declined the investment,” I nodded grimly. “Susette tried to launch her company anyway six months later. It failed within a year, and she lost over eighty thousand dollars of her own father's money. She was humiliated in front of her social circle.”
Nadia let out a long breath, looking toward the dining room. “She blamed you. She thought you deliberately sabotaged her business to protect your own catering company.”
“She never said a word about it directly,” I said, remembering Susette’s sweet, passive-aggressive smiles over the years. “Instead, she decided that if I wouldn't let her run the family’s financial business, she would use her dining room table to prove who really had power in this family. She wanted to punish me. And when she couldn't break me, she started targeting my wife and my children.”
May you like
Nadia’s jaw tightened, her hands gripping the edge of the granite counter. “She used a seven-year-old child to settle a seven-year-old business grudge.”
“Yes,” I said, setting the knife down with finality. “And today was the very last time she will ever get the chance.”
